Cpws Come, and Cows Go, but the BULL goes on forever.

So, between Pride being yesterday here in Boston, and Father’s Day being today, I thought I’d tell you a story today of what Being Queer in the Nineties was like, and also (another) story about Dad.

To be clear, being queer in the 1990s was definitely not always a joy. But in this case… well, you’ll see.

When I was in my early 20s, my parents decided to take me and my brother on a cruise vacation. This was exciting for a number of reasons, not least because my parents were awesome to hang out with. It was always fun to spend time with them and my brother, who was then 16 and had at that point gotten into the Grateful Dead. (Jerry Garcia was still alive, then.)

If you’re new here, my Dad was a Chinese-filipino immigrant who came to the States to be a doctor (and send money home to support his 9 younger siblings). Mom, meanwhile, was born in rural upstate New York, spent her teens in Florida, and then moved to NYC after college. Mom was the one who raised my brother and me to be the progressive humanists we are, while Dad often seemed a little bit baffled by “American” attitudes.

Also, it was our first time on a cruise ship.

Mirrored from Cecilia Tan.